


every touch is a redefining phrase

by nanasekei



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles, POV Tony Stark, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Steve whispers, hand caressing Tony’s hair, and Tony doesn’t get it, because, honestly, he’s totally okay with being woken up with kisses. In fact, if Steve keeps them on the area including his forehead and the top of his head, Tony is pretty sure he can easily drift back to sleep again, and he’ll probably have nice dreams. “Sorry.”He raises his hand to grab at Steve’s shirt and pull him closer to test that theory – which, come to think of it, Steve shouldalreadybe close, what is up with that? – but tragically, Steve pulls away, and after a few seconds of waiting Tony realizes heisn’tcoming back.-Steve always wakes up at an ungodly hour. Tony is deeply against that.





	every touch is a redefining phrase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cindr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cindr/gifts).

> For Cindr. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to Ferret for the beta work.

Tony huffs out a breath as he becomes aware of his surroundings. The soft, welcoming feel of his king-sized bed, along with the pleasant warmth next to him, is rudely interrupted by movement that makes some of the covers slip away from Tony’s shoulder.

“Huh?” he says, eyes blinking open slowly, taking in the mostly dark room. It’s that weird, off-putting feeling of waking up: _ oh yeah, this is where I sleep_.

Immediately, the bed shifts as a large frame leans back onto it. “Oh,” Steve whispers—_ oh yeah, Steve_, Tony thinks, smiling a little. Steve sleeps here, too. Sometimes.

Tony feels as the covers are lifted back to his shoulders. He barely has the time to enjoy the warmth before a small kiss is pressed on his forehead.

“Hmmm,” Tony murmurs approvingly, eyes closing again, even though, as far as Steve kisses go, that one is pretty weak. Still, it’s a nice start, and sometimes it’s good to have encouragement.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Steve whispers, hand caressing Tony’s hair, and Tony doesn’t get it, because, honestly, he’s totally okay with being woken up with kisses. In fact, if Steve keeps them on the area including his forehead and the top of his head, Tony is pretty sure he can easily drift back to sleep again, and he’ll probably have nice dreams. “Sorry.”

He raises his hand to grab at Steve’s shirt and pull him closer to test that theory – which, come to think of it, Steve should _ already _ be close, what is up with that? – but tragically, Steve pulls away, and after a few seconds of waiting Tony realizes he _ isn’t _coming back.

“What—” Tony forces his eyes to open again, against protests from every part of his body. He manages to half-turn and catch a glimpse of the bedroom.

A few, fine strands of light escape through the curtains, letting Tony know it’s probably too-fucking-early o’clock. Steve is standing up, right next to the bed, and even in the dark Tony can see he’s wearing a t-shirt, which, no. He shouldn’t be wearing clothes. Who let him put on clothes?

“Gonna meet Sam at the park,” Steve says, and it takes Tony’s genius, brilliant brain a moment to catch up. Oh, yeah. He always liked Sam, which, clearly, was a terrible mistake.

With considerable effort, Tony finishes turning on the bed, face falling onto his pillow as he lies on his belly and watches as Steve crouches to – Jesus Christ – tie up _ running shoes _.

“Hmf,” Tony says, slightly muffled by the pillow. He isn’t capable of stringing together anything more coherent, so he can only hope Steve catches the crystal-clear disapproval in his grunt.

It seems to work – a pleasant shadow comes between the bed and the evil sunlight, and Steve leans closer to him. Tony can’t fully see his face in the dark, but he feels his strong, warm hand cupping his face and the soft press of lips against his cheek.

He closes his eyes, instinctively, because_ mmm_, yes. Steve. Good.

“…I’ll call you before I leave for dinner,” Steve’s voice whispers, and Tony only vaguely registers it, focused on the warmth of Steve’s breath against his skin. “I love you.”

And, oh—Tony really likes when he says that. It’s— recent, but it’s been happening a lot, lately. Each time, he thinks he likes it more.

“Mmff,” Tony says, meaning _ I love you too_. He isn’t sure if the message fully comes across - he thinks it works better when it’s muffled against Steve’s neck.

He’s about to make an attempt to raise his head a millimeter to say it better, but then the warmth is gone, and he hears the door opening.

* * *

When they were still deep in the denial, _ this-is-totally-just-sex _ stage, it was hard to notice, because they didn’t sleep together that often. Now, though, they spend most nights altering between which bedroom is closest, and Tony realizes it doesn’t really matter if they’re in Steve’s floor or his penthouse: Steve always wakes up at an ungodly hour. He doesn’t even need an alarm – no, he’ll just naturally be up before the birds, pressing a small kiss to the back of Tony’s neck before rolling off the king-sized or queen-sized bed, depending on which bedroom they were in.

(It’s actually really embarrassing, because Steve’s suite is the only one that has a queen-sized bed. Everyone else got a king-sized bed, and the only reason Steve didn’t was because, when they were giving the Tower the final touches, Tony stood in his lab with the schemes of each floor in front of him and he realized everyone else’s floor looked like a normal version of an extremely luxurious suite, whereas Steve’s was _ blatantly _ custom-made to his personal tastes like a room straight out from _ Extreme Makeover: Home Edition_. So Tony panicked and bought him a slightly smaller bed than everyone else’s, in a sad attempt to not seem _ too _biased.

If Steve ever noticed his bed was a blatant _ please-don’t-pick-up-that-I’m-in-love-with-you _message, he never mentioned. Tony imagined he must have chalked it up to their initial hostility, which was a totally fair impression in those first few months, where, if Steve had pigtails, Tony would’ve had a hard time taking his hands off them. Either way, he was just grateful the subject never came up.)

Tony probably shouldn’t be annoyed about it, because Steve is always so careful to not wake him up, but he is.

“No,” he whispers when he feels Steve moving, because this is one of those mornings where they’re tangled up together. Having fallen asleep with his head on Steve’s chest, now Tony’s face is kind of on Steve’s shoulder, which, really, he’s not complaining. It’s still Steve. “Stop that.”

“Mmm,” Steve hums, which makes Tony raise his head, because usually he’s the non-verbal one during mornings.

Steve’s face is a sight, all bleary-eyed with fine strands of blond hair falling over his forehead. Tony can’t help but take his hand to push it back.

“_Mmm _”, Steve hums again, this time much more pleasantly, head almost following the movement of Tony’s hand.

Tony, much more awake, shifts his body so he can lay his arm over Steve’s waist and pull him closer. Steve complies immediately, all soft and dazed, and Tony presses a kiss on his cheek, his hand going to the back of Steve’s neck.

“Stop moving,” Tony chastises when Steve makes the ghost of a motion to pull away. Even then, though, he peppers his words with kisses, following along the line of Steve’s jaw, his silky skin with only the lightest touch of stubble.

Steve sighs, looking at him with those half-lidded, glass blue eyes, and boy, isn’t he a vision like this, sleepy and pliant. Tony starts working on those muscles he knows so well by now, with steady, firm squeezes of the back of his neck.

Steve squirms again, because Tony is in love with the most stubborn human being on the planet. “I have to go,” he says, visibly trying to sound firm even though his voice is all slurred.

“Nope. You don’t.” Tony’s hands take no prisoners, climbing back up to Steve’s hair, fingers going through fine, blond locks in a firm, steady caress that earns him another sigh.

“I _ do_,” Steve insists, but it’s a faint effort, because Tony is a man on a mission, here. He might have been caught off-guard last time, but now, he knows better. He has a sleepy, pliant Steve Rogers in his arms right now, and he’s definitely not letting him get off that easily – or, hm, okay, actually, poor choice of words, Steve can totally get _ off _whenever he wants to, Tony is more than happy to help with that. He’s just not getting away anytime soon.

“You _ really _don’t,” Tony whispers in Steve’s ear, and he knows he’s playing dirty with how syrupy his voice sounds, but hey, all is fair in love and war, and trying to get Steve to sleep in on a Saturday like a normal human being might take a lot of the first, but in practice it’s more like the second.

“I've got reports to fill.”

“Reports? Really? _ That’s _what you’re blowing me off for?” Tony is shocked with indignation, but he doesn’t stop the kisses or the caresses on Steve’s hair. By now, he has enough experience with battle strategies that he knows you don’t cease your attack just because your opponent resorted to a low blow. “Come on, you can fill them later.”

“I,” Steve starts, and then cuts himself short with another sigh when Tony adds a little suction to a kiss on his neck. His lips part in that lovely _ oh _Tony never gets tired of, but he immediately takes a hold of himself, schooling his expression into something less tempted. “I promised Fury I’d send them to him by noon.”

“And I’m certain he’s just dying to receive them,” Tony says with an eyeroll. “Oh, yeah, Nick Fury, losing his sleep over whether or not someone is following protocols. Checking his e-mail over and over…”

Steve lets out a reluctant laugh. “Shut up,” he says, but it comes out more like _ shuddup_, and it’s too cute for Tony to be annoyed. He shifts his head a little, and the next kiss Tony plants is on his lips, chaste for the sake of sparing them both from morning breath.

“Come on,” Tony insists, “it’s Saturday. You already wake up at a ridiculous time every day during the week, I think just one time won’t hurt.”

“I promised him, though,” Steve points out, and Tony groans.

“I’ll fill them for you later,” he bullshits blatantly, and the sleepy haze isn’t enough to keep Steve from raising a dubious eyebrow at him. “Okay, FRIDAY will.” Steve keeps staring, squinting his eyes in a way that’s desperately cute, which is what pushes Tony to full-blown insanity. “Fine, we’ll fill them together.”

Steve pauses for a moment and then smiles, as if Tony’s suggestion is actually a great idea. “Okay,” he says.

Tony stops caressing his hair to punch the air.

It’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t wake up that early.”

“Uh, yes, you do,” Tony counters, throwing one naked leg over Steve’s waist. Steve has this weird thing where he kind of makes Tony want to be an octopus, just so he could have eight arms touching him at all times. “Now shut your pretty mouth and go back to sleep.”

“Seriously?” Steve sounds disbelieving. “You did all this just to use me as a human comforter?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tony’s eyes are already closed, but he has to open one of them to ask. “Why—wait, you agreed because you thought I was going to use you in a different way, didn’t you?”

Steve shrugs with one naked shoulder. His cheeks’ flush deepens. “Kind of, yes.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Tony says. He’s pretty much glued to Steve now, tangled around him like a sloth, and when he talks, he’s saying the words practically on his skin. “Not that this is a bad idea, but _ someone _did a number on me last night,” he scrapes his teeth over Steve’s throat, looking up just to see his cheeks darkening even more. “Almost rode the life out of me, in fact.”

Steve lets out an embarrassed chuckle, in all his boy scout cuteness, and, really, it’s a miracle, how this is the same man that rode Tony last night until he came so hard he almost went blind. It’s amazing.

“Point being,” Tony continues, “that I’m still a little sore. Later, though – and I do mean _ later_, possibly after a soothing bath – I can reconsider the possibility.” He tilts his head and plants a kiss on the side of Steve’s jaw, closing his eyes. “Now, sleep, okay?”

Steve stays quiet for a whole ten seconds before Tony feels him shifting.

“I didn’t know,” Tony hears him saying, and it’s the hesitance in his voice that makes him alert. “Uh. I didn’t know you liked this… sort of thing.”

Tony opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What ‘sort of thing’?”

“You know.” Steve shrugs, but he doesn’t sound casual at all. “Just… being together. I.” He swallows, his eyes snapping to the ceiling. “I thought, I dunno, that you’d find it a little cheesy.”

Tony’s eyes widen as he takes in the information. Fondness stretches inside of him as he studies Steve’s nervous expression, the way his lips seem to want to smile even if he wants to avoid it.

When Tony speaks, his voice is much softer: “I like spending time with you. Even if it’s, uh. To do nothing.” He shuts his mouth and swallows. “Sometimes that’s. That’s all I want.”

Steve looks at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. Then, after a moment, “Do you?”

Steve’s lips twitch in that blinding smile he was trying to keep down. “I do,” he says, voice giddy. Tony feels himself grinning back.

“Good,” is all he can say before Steve pulls him closer, clearly not giving two shits about morning breath as he kisses Tony as open-mouthed and sweet as he had last night.

The kiss stretches, growing slow and lazy, and when they pull apart, they’re so close Tony can count Steve’s eyelashes, and he feels hazy. Part of it is sleepiness, and the other part is just the floaty feel of being drunk on Steve Rogers that he’s been getting so much lately.

“I like your bed,” Steve whispers, as if he’s telling him a secret.

“Oh.” Tony blinks. “It’s—it’s a little bigger than yours.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he looks like he’s expecting Tony to say something.

Tony just stares. For a moment he’s concerned Steve might be waiting for an explanation for the queen-sized bed, and he’s worried about what to say, when—it hits him.

“Maybe you—uh, you could,” Tony stammers. “Just. Sleep here.”

Steve just stares at him, still waiting, and Tony swallows.

“I could,” Steve says, after a while. He’s giving him an exit to finish this conversation, but Tony doesn’t want it.

“I mean, like, always,” he blurts out, speaking very fast because he’s sure if he stops to think he won’t be able to pick the proper words, so it’s better to just test his luck. “Uh, not all the time, obviously, but, like, every day, or, or whenever you wanted to sleep, really. Because it would, you know—it would be your room.” Then Tony stops, both because he doesn’t know what else to say and because Steve’s smile has rendered him incapable of forming words.

“That,” Steve says, and—his crinkled eyes seem especially bright and blue, but maybe it’s the angle, “sounds like a great idea.”

Tony is grinning too, before he can think about it. And then he’s giggling, because he’s _ actually _ thinking about it, and—wow, yeah. It’s one of the best ideas he’s ever had.

He tilts his head, coming closer so he’s pretty much speaking against Steve’s mouth when he says, “Good."

He feels Steve’s arms coming to his waist and pulling him against him, before he rolls both of them over on the bed.

They end up not getting much sleep afterwards, but Tony is definitely not complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I really appreciate kudos and comments. You can also reblog the fic on tumblr [here](https://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/187430992790/every-touch-is-a-redefining-phrase-nanasekei).


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